Cycle of Life

In the year and a half we have been in our small town, some Tanzanian friends have borne babies and some have gotten married. I have blogged about both those events, so, I guess it rounds out the cycle of life to report on the funeral we attended a couple of weeks ago.

Mrs. Mbwambo, the wife of a teacher at our school, had gone to the town of Lushoto to visit their daughter at her boarding school.  On the return trip, her bus collided with a truck while trying to pass a smaller vehicle.  She had a badly broken arm and was taken to a good hospital in Moshi.  She was treated and seemed to be on the road to recovery, but she died suddenly of complications.  She was 42 years old.

When a person passes away here, all their friends, neighbors, and family members gather at the person's home every day until the funeral.  We went the day after we heard the news, with a group of other teachers.  Men wear their everyday clothes for the condolence call, but women wear a kanga, or two, for the visit and for the funeral itself.  Kangas are colorful and versatile pieces of cotton fabric that can be wrapped around the waist to wear as a skirt, wrapped higher up to make a sarong, or worn as a shawl.  In this case, women usually wear one as a skirt and another as a shawl.  Kangas have slogans printed above the lower border.  (Mine says, "Mtoto kwa mzazi hakui", which means, loosely, "To a parent, a child doesn't grow up.")  We saw several kangas at the funeral with the slogan meaning "All is God's work."  We wondered if they were made especially for funerals. 

We walked to the Mbwambo home on the other side of our small town.  We could identify the house from a distance because it was the one with the open-sided tents set up in the yard, a sound system playing hymns, and at least 50 people visiting.  We made our way to the porch where the widower sat, shook hands, and said "Pole sana" (very sorry) to him and to anyone who looked like a relative.  We then sat with other mourners under a tent and listened to the hymns for an hour or so.

Friends, neighbors, and family contribute to a "condolence fund", and we did as well, along with all the other teachers at our school.  The bereaved family uses the money to finance funeral expenses--not just a coffin, but the tent rental, sound system, and food for the mourners, who may spend all day at the home.  Close friends and neighbors take time off work in the days before a funeral, to spend time with the bereaved family.

Two days after our condolence visit was the funeral itself, which was also held at the home, in the front yard.  Mrs. Mbwambo was a grade school teacher, a member of her church choir, and a long-time member of the community, so hundreds of people attended the service.  People began assembling in the morning, but we and many others arrived a little before 2 pm.  Lunch was served before the service began, with 3 buffet lines set up on the property. 

The Christian service began after lunch, and many parts of it were familiar to us.  There were prayers, eulogies, and a sermon.  (Sermons in Tanzania tend to be lengthy.  Parishioners expect a pastor to speak for as long as he or she has something to say.)  Three different choirs sang, each more than once.  Then it was time for final goodbyes.  The casket, highly polished wood with ornate brass fittings, had been closed, but now was opened so mourners could file past for a last look at the deceased.  This was a highly emotional event.  The widower himself and his children were relatively stoic,  but female relatives and friends were wailing and sobbing.  Some had to be helped back to their seats.  After the last viewing, the casket was closed and carried away, to the accompaniment of one of the choirs.  Many people followed the casket, and others just got up and moved around.  We expected that the next stop would be a cemetery, so we were surprised to learn that she was to be buried beside the house.  I actually think that is a nice alternative, here.  Cemeteries generally seem neglected, with towering weeds and wind-blown trash.  By burying a loved one near the home, the family can maintain the gravesite regularly.

We found the condolence visits and the funeral very touching.  The whole week underlined for us the importance of the community in this culture.  People are closely involved in their neighbors' life events, and participate in them fully.  

Theft!

We've been warned about crime in Arusha, and we do our best to protect ourselves, but recently the malefactors got the upper hand.

We go to the city a couple of times a month to visit the bank and shop for goods we can't find in our small town.  We come back with such things as olives, canned tuna, plum jelly, paper towels, and our liquor of choice.  We take a backpack with us for carrying our purchases easily.

Arusha's sidewalks are always busy with vendors, walkers, and people standing around conversing, so we normally walk single file.  One day last month, we had done some of our shopping and were on our way to another store when the sidewalk became exceptionally crowded with young men.  I was in the lead and I picked up my pace a little to try to outstrip the mass of people.  I didn't realize this was a setup, with the goal of filching things from the backpack Mark was wearing.

The crowd cleared suddenly and Mark caught up with me, saying, "Check the backpack.  See what's missing."  One of the zippered compartments was gaping open.  After a quick inventory, I realized that the only thing stolen was a plastic bag holding a small package of raisins.  Tanzanians don't eat raisins, which can only be found here in one or two shops that cater to Indians and Westerners.  I'm sure that the thieves expected us (old white people) to be carrying something more valuable--electronics, perhaps.  It gives me wicked satisfaction to think of them inspecting their booty and saying the equivalent of, "What the heck is this?"

Malaria Program

Malaria is a serious problem here.  One Tanzanian dies of malaria every 5 minutes.  It's the #1 child killer, with 1 in 5 under 5 years old dying of malaria-related diseases.  It is especially dangerous for pregnant women and their babies.  The women are susceptible to certain strains and may become dangerously anemic.  Without treatment, the disease can be passed to the child and contribute to low birth weight and other problems.

Malaria is somewhat less prevalent in our community than in other areas of the country, due to our high altitude and dry climate, but it is still a major health problem.  I have information on malaria and a DVD of a Swahili-language movie with a malaria theme that was given to us by the Peace Corps, so one of the teachers at our school and I decided to hold a malaria information session last Saturday. 

Of course, no enterprise here takes place without bumps along the road.  I had given the DVD to my teacher friend for her to preview.  She liked and approved of it, so we planned the program.  On Friday, she brought the DVD into work and showed it to one of the other teachers who share her office.  Then she had to go to class, and the other teacher said she would put the DVD into my friend's spacious handbag, which she left on her desk.   We planned the event for Saturday morning at 9:00.  My friend arrived somewhat late, and distressed, as she could not find the DVD.  Not in her purse, not in her office, not in her home.  She went to the house of the teacher who had been looking at it, and was told that it had indeed been put in her handbag as promised.  Then she commenced calling the other teachers who shared her office.  Finally, one of them reported that she had seen a new teacher take the DVD out of her purse.  Well, we didn't have this teacher's phone number.  We ended up calling the vice-principal, who not only gave us his number but also called the man himself.  Luckily, he lives nearby, and he gave the DVD to a messenger who finally delivered it to us.

A couple things to keep in mind.  Foremost, this is a communal society.  People are used to sharing things as a matter of course.  In my classroom, students pass pens pencils, erasers, and rulers back and forth constantly.  Often, these things do not get back to their original owners.  But it's polite to make a request before taking something.  So, my friend was distressed and worried about the event because it interfered with our program, but she was not as furious as I would have been about someone taking something from my purse.  The other thing is that people are generally not confrontational here.  She simply talked to the culprit quietly and got it back.  I managed not to say, "Where I come from, that's called STEALING!"   

So, we finally recovered the DVD,  and were able to start the program at 11:00.  I had been entertaining the students who had arrived earlier by playing music and showing photos that we had stored on our laptop, but we were all happy to get started.

Forty-four students, mostly girls, participated in the program.  We watched the movie, then had a discussion about malaria in Tanzania, disease prevention, malaria in pregnancy, and the myths and superstitions surrounding the disease.  (For example:  sleeping under in insecticide-treated mosquito net makes a man impotent!)  Students loved the movie and enjoyed and learned from the discussion.  I hope that it will help them protect themselves and their families from this disease.